An Odd Undead
by The Powder Keg
Summary: It doesn't all have to be gruesome tales. This is the story of the Ashen One's adventures outside of the battles, as he meets those who reside in the shrine, and speak to those who would come to live there. He will do things no other Undead has done before him, but they aren't at all what was expected of him.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello everyone. For those seeking more information other than what is shown in the summary, I don't have much more to offer than the fact that these are a series of oneshots involving my Chosen Undead and some odd, fun, heartwarming, and sorrow filled things that he does.**

Firelink Shrine was a generally quiet place, having only the Firekeeper, the Handmaiden, and Andre inside of its blackened walls. Only sounds would flicker throughout this place, the only one of note being the constant and eternal rhythm of Andre bringing his hammer down on the cold steel of a small sword as he fixed each microscopic flaw, only for another to surface. It was peaceful for him, however.

The second sound would be the clinking of The Handmaiden's un-bought wares as she sorted and inspected their quality. Perfect of course, with maybe a little ash to brush off, and the warmth of an ember to admire. It had been so long since she had gotten another ash to create items with.

The third, and perhaps most faint sound in the Shrine was that of The Firekeeper's footsteps as she blindly yet perfectly traced the empty, ash covered halls yet again. Unlike The Handmaiden and Andre, she had no discernible purpose with the bonfire missing its sword, and ash being all that remains of its flame. So she was forced to be content with walking those halls.

This all changed when the Ashen One woke, fought his way through the graves and by Gundyr, and plunged the Coiled Sword into the Shrine Bonfire. To many the change would seem small, but to anyone living in the shrine, it would now seem alight with sound.

Now, the flames danced and crackled happily around the blade and bones in the fire pit. Sounds of the Firekeeper tending to the flame were often heard now. Not to mention the Ashen one himself.

A swordsman who appreciated the lesser known uses of sorceries, he often made conversation with anyone in the Shrine he could find. He most often spoke with Orbeck of Vinheim and Cornyx of The Great Swamp. They were his best sources of magical guidance.

He spoke with Ludleth about kingdoms before Lothric. He spoke with Hawkwood about being dragon, which was a mystery to him. To the amazement of everyone, The Ashen one was even able to coax a few words out of Horace the Hushed. How this was achieved was no actual effort on the Ashen One's part, but simply a silent challenge from Horace.

The two clashed for a short time, the Ashen One neglecting his Estus flask and few sorceries. Horace was skilled, but it was soon evident that the two warriors were matches in terms of skill and strength. So much that Horace held up his hand, panting behind his mask. The Ashen One waited, and a few words, barely more than a whisper, came forward.

"Fight well. Honorable." He said. Sensing this was an opportunity for any question, the Ashen One acted fast. "You as well, but why do you challenge me?"

Horace managed to look put off under his mask, but lowered his head, and answered. "To know you. Know your blade." The Ashen one pressed. "Why not ask me?"

"Words useless. Waste of breath." Horace sheathed his sword, in essence saying that he would speak no more. The Ashen One nodded, sheathing his own blade and bowing respectfully.

Everyone else in the Shrine was watching, albeit some more discreetly than others. While Anri and The Firekeeper openly gawked at Horace speaking, Andre simply glanced back to them every now and then, listening while keeping himself busy. He smiled to himself.

* * *

While the Ashen One spoke to everyone in Firelink Shrine, most of his attention was payed towards Andre, The Handmaiden, and The Firekeeper. He longed to figure out certain mysteries about them. How did The Firekeeper transpose souls into his strength, where did The Handmaiden produce her wares from, and why did Andre not have a forge?

Most questions he had went unanswered or understood. When asked about her storage, The Handmaiden simply laughed him off. When asked about not having a forge or grindstone, Andre glared as if it was a sore subject. The Firekeeper's explanation about how she made him stronger made little sense.

Even with such few questions answered, The Ashen one discovered that they each had their own small sanctuaries in their tasks to aid him. Andre was a blacksmith by heart, and enjoyed working on new and interesting weapons, stating that he liked the challenge they gave him. The Handmaiden found small happiness in sharing the story of whatever item she had.

The Firekeeper, by her namesake was utterly content tending to the flame. She picked and poked at the coals of the flame when they were low and kindled them until the tongues of heat rose nearly to the hilt of the Coiled Sword. Simply basking in the warm glow made her happy. Like the Ashen One, she herself was found laying near the Shrine Bonfire from time to time.

Firelink Shrine was always a peaceful place, but now it was joyful, graced with the presence of The Chosen Undead, with more personality left in him than any other in the cycle. He was a step from human, and in some ways, still was. Each resident of the Shrine always awaited his return from his journeys.

 **Well there you have it, I know it is a small, setup chapter, but it was all that was needed for the small bits of plot. The other chapters probably wont be much bigger, but will come out somewhat faster than my other stories because of that. Until the next one, have a good day.**

 **Feel free to PM me with any ideas you have pertaining to this particular story.**


	2. A New Type of Pyromancy

**Hello everyone, I'm back already. Trying to crank these out so more people can find the story. I do so love reviews.**

 **Anyway, Chapter 2: A New Type of Combustion**

The ashen one had been staring at his hands for a solid ten minutes now, more lost in thought than Seigward could ever hope to be. Both of his hands held something glowing and orange, though each was slightly different from the other.

In his right hand he held the Pyromancy Flame, gifted to him by Cornyx. In his left, he held a patch of flame the size of his armored palm. An Ember. His thoughts were of what could happen if he were to combine the two in a simple Pyromancy like Combustion. The Ember did, after all, contain the Strength of Flame.

Pyromancy was a delicate thing as much as it was hot. If a sorcery were to die on him it would simply be weak or dissipate. A Pyromancy however, if not treated with care, burned whatever power the user allowed it and then some, becoming an uncontrollable Combustion that would likely blow/burn the caster's hand off. It may also weld his armor to his very skin.

There was always Estus, but it took most of his flasks to heal such a wound fully, and left the Ashen One dizzy when he had done so the first time. It was not an experience he wished to repeat once again. He sighed.

If everything went right and the Pyromancy Flame used the Ember like fuel. it could very well make a flame many times stronger than the original. An attack like that would be devastating, possibly even enough to kill the likes of Gundyr with a single shot. It would also give him an edge against the Crystal Sage, whom he'd been unable to deal enough damage at a reasonable speed due to her fleeing.

While the Ashen One was still deep in thought, Cornyx finally wandered over to see what all the silence had been about. Usually he was very talkative for an Undead. But right now he sat quiet, eyes on his hands.

"What is going on in that head of yours? I'd wager something interesting, hmm?" Cornyx asked, making the Undead look upwards. "You're correct about that. I've just made a decision." He said.

"Of course you have. Care to tell me what about?" Cornyx grinned slightly, and the Ashen One nodded. "I'll show you. Come." The Ashen One and the old Pyromancer both sat at the Shrine Bonfire, the Undead's hand on Cornyx's shoulder.

A feeling of heat filled both of them as the world blurred and fogged around them for a moment as they traveled. The old Pyromancer had little time to wonder what kind of place he was being taken to before the world clarified and darkened. They were in a dreary, damp, waterlogged hole in the ground.

Hole was derogatory, this was a chasm large enough to where Cornyx had trouble spotting the other side. Gnarled roots and bits of rubble sagged down from the opening up top, signing that this was recently opened. "Welcome to the Pit of Hollows."

Cornyx had heard the Ashen One's story of his fight with the Curse-Rotted Greatwood, and how he'd had gained the transposing kiln from it. If what he said was true, they were now in the chasm that had opened up due to the tree's repeated impacts.

"And why are we here?" Cornyx asked, already having ideas for the answer. "So I can't damage anything with what I'm about to do." Cornyx gave a sideways, and slightly apprehensive look.

"I'm going to feed the strength of an Ember to the Pyromancy Flame. I'd suggest standing behind me when I cast this." Cornyx nodded,moving behind the Ashen One and summoning his own Pyromancy Flame, though his was Ascended. With it he began to form the beginnings of an ancient fire ward, in case things went awry. What his Undead pupil was going to attempt, had never been done.

The Ashen One readied his flame, and began forging the spell of Combustion in his mind, guiding it to his palm. With the Pyromancy ready, he took the Ember still clasped in his left hand and placed it into the flame. The reaction was immediate and chaotic.

The small, red flame instantly roared to a dull white, hotter and larger than Cornyx's own flame. At the same moment, the Ashen One felt the metal of his gauntlets start to burn his hands. Quickly he cast Combustion, if only to use up some of the heat now burning him. He thrust his arm forwards and the world shook.

A blaze of dull orange and red shot forth from the inferno in the Undead's hand. 10 times larger and hotter than any before it, the few inches of water on the ground boiled away from its presence. It was only through a monumental effort and slight shielding on Cornyx's part that the Ashen One had been able to fully direct the Pyromancy in the right direction, while keeping his arm stable.

As it was, it felt like the palm of his hand had been struck by a glowing red piece of wrought iron, and he had held it for a moment. Once the spell had dissipated, the pooled water rushed back to fill in the gap, still steaming slightly. The Ashen one took a drink of his Estus to heal the burns. All the while Cornyx stood in awe.

"I guess that worked." The Ashen one said, whistling appreciatively.

"It did more than work. It was magnificent!" The old Pyromancy said. And it was true. Cornyx was one of the very few Pyromancers able to see the true light of flame. And this Pyromancy, even though it was only Combustion, was breathtaking. It was like looking at a mountain range for the first time after only seeing a child's drawing.

"It'll take care of that blasted Sage, that I'm sure of." Cornyx could only nod as the two of them returned to Firelink Shrine and purchased a dozen Embers from The Handmaiden.

 **Crystal Sage Fog Door**

The Ashen One stepped through and immediately charged the Crystal Sage as he had done many times before. Pyromancy Flame in one hand and an unseen item in the other, The Crystal Sage figured the Undead had finally reached his breaking point, and was madly charging. She happily greeted him with a spell.

The Ashen One altered his course slightly to avoid the row of crystals that had punctured and ripped off his leg on their first encounter. He quickly readied Combustion in his mind, and ran closer. The Sage, seeing the close proximity of her opponent, readied her blade as he came within reach.

Clasping his hands together for just a moment, the Ashen One released the torrent of flame that he had named Chaotic Combustion, due to it's hard-to-control nature. The ball fury of orange and red flame filled the three walled chamber that the Sage always waited in, surging upwards as the Undead pushed the fire forwards, expanding his mind and unknowingly mimicking Cornyx's ward in order to contain it.

The Sage felt her skin blistering as most of her dress and the bandages on her face became charred and ash. She was burning in a barely controlled inferno, and fled. When she reappeared moments later, the Ashen One now held a Broadsword and Buckler. She summoned her clones to confuse and distract him until she noticed that they all flickered and died soon after coming into existence. She was too weak.

In a last ditch effort, she shot forwards dozens of Farron Darts, feeling what little energy she had draining. The Undead before her wove through them, taking few hits before they were face to face. Desperately she swung her sword at him, only for it to be parried away like a child's plaything. Too weak.

The Ashen One spoke no words as he drove his Broadsword into the base of her neck and waited. The smoldering mess of the Crystal Sage dissipated in white fog as he felt her power and souls enter him, kindling his body,

A blue glowing orb appeared before the Ashen One, and he grasped her soul, wondering what could be transposed of this.

 **There you have it. A new discovery and a bit of action. Also longer than I said it would be but I doubt you'll complain. Anyway, don't forget to leave a review or PM. Also PM me if you have any ideas for this story or perhaps another. Until next time, stay grossly incandescent!**


	3. Unexpected Sparring Partner

**Hello** **everyone, sorry to have taken so long, but school has been crushing me with a project. Almost done though. So I hope you enjoy the chapter.**

The Ashen One trudged around Firelink Shrine slowly. He had his sword unsheathed and a look of emptiness in his eyes. His movements were slow and sluggish and he wasn't making any noise as he walked towards Hawkwood.

"Hey **Hawkwood,** how about a quick spar?" The Chosen Undead asked the warrior sitting on the bricks of Firelink Shrine. The deserter looked up from sharpening his sword and in a lightly depressed tone said, "I cannot. There is someone I must see soon. I want to be in my best condition."

The Ashen One's posture only slouched more. "Oh, I see. Best of luck to you." With that he walked back to the Shrine Bonfire and stretched out on his back, looking at the dark ceiling. Well that was it. He was out of options. The Undead closed his eyes and let boredom take him over as recent scars burned with a slight itch.

He had asked everyone in the Shrine that he thought could put up a fight. Anri and Horace were out somewhere. Cornyx refused him any teachings until he had more or less mastered his new Chaotic Pyromancies. He didn't speak with Yoel because he was working on a secret spell and Yoel could pick his secrets apart easily. The Chosen Undead had even asked Andre to a spar, but the old blacksmith seemed only interested in boxing.

And so he laid there, waiting and thinking of strategies in order to beat the Lord of Cinder he had recently encountered.

"Ashen One?" A soft voice asked, pulling him out of the closest thing an Undead could get to sleep. He opened his eyes, to see the Firekeeper standing above him and looking down. "Looking" was an loose term, as she wore her eyepiece at all times, hiding her lack of eyes. She actually just moved her face in his direction. She could "see" in a way. How else would she make her way around Firelink Shrine as deftly as she did.

"Yes?" The Undead asked, not moving from his position on the ash covered floor. He was actually quite relaxed on the floor. The bricks kept him cool and the layer of ash was comfortable.

"It seems you are without an opponent. Would you like to spar?" She asked, softly still. The Ashen One immediately jumped up into a standing position with excitement, before catching on. "How? You can't see and I've never seen you carry a weapon." She chuckled.

"I believe you will have to find out. Have at thee." She said, still making no move to ready herself. The Ashen One sighed, drawing his Fallen Knight Sword and Round Leather Shield. He had decided there would be no harm in attacking her, though he was reluctant to do so. The Shrine needed a Firekeeper, and she would surely re-appear.

Swiftly he stabbed the sword at her, aiming at the Firekeeper's collar-bone. At the last minute, her facial features took on a decidedly fierce appearance. From her sleeve slipped a blade akin to the Aquamarine Dagger, this one studded with Topaz instead. Almost too fast to see, she pushed his blade aside and delivered two quick, precise strikes in the chinks of the Ashen One's Fallen Knight Armor. He wore no helmet.

In the same motion she also shoved him backwards with her free hand, that held a surprising amount of force. He stumbled back a foot, his sword falling back into position as he quickly tried to comprehend what just happened. She didn't give him time.

With another quick move, barely more than a flick, a semi-deep cut appeared on the Undead Warrior's cheek. He quickly rolled backwards to gain some breathing room. She simply activated the ability of her Topaz Dagger. With a flash, a red beam extended from the blade and having nothing physical to back it, passed through the Ashen One's forearm bracer and singes his flash.

Seeing that The Firekeeper wasn't going to stop, he went into offensive. He pushed with a flurry of strikes, each slipped aside with oddly skilled reflections of The Firekeeper's blade. At least he had stopper her attacks. She would probably start once he stopped. Good.

He pulled back his blade and lowered his shield to halfway down his side. A bait. One that she fell for. As she struck in his direction, he used the bulge on his shield to parry the blow away and stabbed forward. This time her blade was to far away to be raised in time, and a small cut on her cheek was etched by a quick and pulled strike. The pain was odd, as The Firekeeper had not felt it in many decades.

With no anger, she lashed out again, quicker this time. To the Ashen One, her movements were blurred around the edges as she cut three times, one being a particularly painful stab with the Topaz Beam extended into his midsection. His insides burned slightly and he bled, but did not drink from his flask.

Dropping his shield, he gripped the blade with two hands for an overhead strike. The Firekeeper simply sidestepped before countering with a cut placed on his sword arm. The blade embedded into the ground after hitting nothing but air, and The Firekeeper decided to end this. Whirling around behind the Undead Champion like a ballerina, she held the now glowing blade to his throat, her other hand pressed on the back of his neck. "Game over?"

"Yes." The Ashen One said as she released him and he collected himself. He sheathed his sword and put his shield on his back before taking stock of his injuries. Below his armor, a flurry of semi-deep cuts stung with his every movement, and blood dripped onto the ash covered floor from the stab wound. Just a drink from his Estus Flask healed all of these easily. He was about to re-clasp it to his side before remembering the cut he gave The Firekeeper. Turning, he was the thin line of red on her pale face, trailing down slightly.

The Firekeeper had just put her Topaz Dagger away and was surprised to notice a glowing flask raised in her direction. She didn't know what it meant until she realized that he was offering it to her. With a bow of thanks she took it into her hand, noting the cool feeling of the rough glass despite the glow inside. She took a small drink of it.

The Firekeeper had never actually tasted Estus before, and was pleasantly surprised to find a mild orange flavor mixed with something she couldn't quite describe. The liquid was cold and refreshing, but warmed her body as it healed any wounds it could find. Her cut closed, leaving a scar that faded away almost immediately. "Thank you." She said.

"You're welcome. Also, where did you learn to fight like that?" He asked. She chuckled quietly. "Everyone should know how to defend themselves, should they not?" She answered.

"Yeah, I guess that true. How did you see my attacks though?" She looked at him for a moment before deciding her answer. "Every living thing has a shred of soul or fire in them. I can see that in them, and it gives them form. It is akin to seeing something only by the armor it wears, not by what it is. As for your weapons, your flame projects to it, and illuminates it for me. Does that answer your question?" The Ashen One nodded.

"Thanks for the fight, I needed to get something off my mind, and a little practice while I could." The Firekeeper nodded, knowing of the recent troubles he had been having with the Abyss Watchers. "I will leave you to your own devices then. And perhaps, if you so please, we could practice again." With that The Firekeeper left the Ashen One where he was.

The Undead sighed and collapsed onto his back, and felt the relaxing coolness of the floor again, combined with the softness of the ashes. With a smile on his face, he drifted back into peacefulness.

 **A little longer, but is that ever a bad thing? I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Don't forget to leave a review or a PM if you want, of any ideas you have for the story.**

 **Just for detail, the gear the Ashen One has is the full Fallen Knight set, but he wears only the hood. He has the matching sword, but uses the Round Leather Shield. With any gear changes, I will tell you about in the Author note. Until next time!**


	4. Power of The Hand

Hello **everyone, back again! Sorry it takes me longer to get this out, but I've recently been stressed about some medical things. NO MATTER! Let's get right into it. Favorite if you enjoy and leave a Review or PM if you have any ideas, or just want to talk at me. Whatever the case, enjoy.**

The Ashen One stood, in the Firelink Shrine, poised for the simple command from his master that would allow him to test his skills, and maybe, just maybe, show the older man something he hasn't seen before. His grip tightened on the wooden staff he held, ready.

A calm, authoritative voice spoke through the room. "Begin." With that, the Ashen One readied his first spell. As he did, Orbeck cast Magic Shield on a Pontiff Knight Shield, a shield that the Undead had yet to encounter. It was light and already had latent magical abilities in it. A perfect host for Magic Shield.

The Ashen One swung his staff twice, the head of it glowing blue sporadically as two Farron Darts burst forth towards the master. Child's play. With quick and calculated movements, he stopped each blast as they were absorbed into his magic. There was little impact thanks to said magical abilities held within the shield. Another flash, a Soul Arrow pushed its way at Orbeck. He stepped sideways, just enough.

A master managed every ounce of energy, and so he only moved as far as he needed to in order to dodge the spell. By the margin of an inch it passed by him and crashed against the wall. Drawing a dagger, the only weapon Orbeck had permitted him, the Ashen One rushed him, firing a few more Farron Darts as he closed the distance.

Two dulled clangs sounded out as the Undead swiped his dagger across the shield, testing his master's defense. Each time the spell cast on it flashed briefly, signifying the magic absorbing the impact. Once more the Ashen One tried a melee attack, a stab. Just before impact, Orbeck's shield moved an inch to the side, catching the dagger and deflecting it to the side. In the same fluid motion, he pushed outwards with the article of defense, pushing his challenger back.

As the Ashen One stood still recovering from the impact, a fraction of a second was all it took for Orbeck to cast a Great Farron Dart into his chest. The Undead fell to the floor before quickly picking himself up.

"This is supposed to be a test of magic, not swordplay. Please remember that." Orbeck said in his criticizing way of voice. It angered the Ashen One to an extent, but he held his secret until later in the fight. He had to tire him out first. Once again he called forth two Farron Darts, but cast them aside from himself and they curved to meet their target. An odd technique, but not one unknown to Orbeck.

A simple counter for the Sorcerer. Stepping back a foot and a half, he watched as the Darts collided where he was supposed to be. Easy. Seeing that the man wasn't getting a challenge, the Ashen One launched a barrage of six Souls Arrows, draining a large amount of his magic. He would have to drink soon. Orbeck looked at the impending barrage calmly, and walked forward.

He wove through the Arrows like they were not there as he heard the crashing hiss of them hitting the wall. He made it close to the Ashen One, and cast Farron Flashsword. Like it's name entails, the magical blade crashed passed through the Undead's armor in a flash, doing damage. He lashed out with his dagger many times, each strike easily blocked behind the impenetrable defense that only a master behind a shield could have. He was getting pushed back, but it couldn't be long now.

Two out of the five Homing Soulmass hit the Ashen One squarely in the chest, while the others flew past. He smiled however, as Orbeck's shield was dimming. Before giving the master time to notice, he cast three Farron Darts in quick succession, just enough to get rid of the final amount of magic left in the shield. Seeing this, Orbeck began to cast his shield again.

Quickly the Ashen One launched his staff at his master's head before drinking heavily from his Ashen Estus Flask. He needed every ounce of magic for what he was about to attempt. Orbeck ducked around the piece of wood before looking at his apprentice angrily. "Just _what_ do you think you;re doing?" He asked. The Ashen One grinned.

With a push that bent his mind in ways that shouldn't be possible, the Ashen One's hands glowed. Two Soul Spears crashed themselves into existence, pushed to either side by the caster's outstretched arms. He cast a third, putting more effort as a third, larger Soul Spear pushed straightforwards. Still reeling from seeing the impossible, Orbeck failed to put up a complete defense as the Spears, arched downwards and coming up in either direction pushed his shield upwards and lifted him slightly off his feet.

The third Soul Spear crashed squarely into his chest, the robes offering little protection. A deep pain ripped its way into his lungs and heart as the spell burst against him. Nose bleeding from the effort he just used, the Ashen One rushed forward as his master fought for breath. He something he called Dual Farron Hail, as many darts rushed out of his hands and towards the man. This time the shield was up, but he was weak. The first few he blocked, but he was eventually pushed over by the force of them all.

Finally, head hurting so hard he could barely think, the Ashen One conjured the complete body of a Farron Flashword and held it against Orbeck's throat. The spell rippled, fighting against its own existence of more than a few moments. Orbeck sighed, looking up, and coughed a bit of blood. "You've done well", and he passed out.

* * *

Later after forcing some Estus into an unconscious Orbeck, he woke up. Immediately the master questioned how the Ashen One was able to cast without a staff. He explained as best he could, but it was more or less sheer determination and will that had allowed him to do it, and it placed enormous stress on both body and mind. Orbeck was amazed, because even one as great as Big Hat Logan was unable to complete such a feat. He vowed to learn it himself.

 **I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I did the idea. Don't forget to leave a review or PM if you want to tell me any ideas you have for future chapters. And as always, Until next time!.**


	5. A Blade Never Before Seen

**Hello everybody. Sorry this one took so long, but i was out of town for a while and couldn't get to my computer. Sorry about that. Without anymore waiting, Enjoy!**

 **Ashen One sick of finding low quality, or used weapons in Lordran. Today he forges with Andre, after building said forge. Using repair powder and odd enchantments, he coaxes the metal to weld into a box, and acquires a forge bellow along with high quality, long burning wood from the Great Swamp. Mention the ever burning bonfire there.**

The final warrior of Wolf's Blood fell, and the Ashen One stood there. He was bleeding, burned, and barely able to stand. His stock of Estus was depleted, but the bonfire was a few feet in front of him. Taking a step forward, his legs like lead, he continued. The sound of rock grinding against itself went unheard through his tunnel vision. He faltered for a moment, leaning on his blade as it dug into the floor. His own blood ran down it from a multitude of cuts and gashes. The same ran down his chin, courtesy of a deep stab wound into his abdomen.

The Ashen One leaned more weight onto his Fallen Knight Sword as he continued walking. He was so close now, only a few feet. His grip on his life was failing him. Three more steps, two more-

 ***SNAP***

The blade of the Fallen Knight Sword shattered and the Ashen One fell with it, landing chest down, an arms reach from the unlit flame. Meekly he raised his hand as if feeling for heat, and the flame ignited. A yellow miasma of smoke filtered around him as his wounds healed and he laid on the floor, feeling phantom pain from injuries he still should have.

After a time of resting and comprehension, and then a small celebration of Siegbrau, the Ashen One finally took a look at his weapon. A darker, dirty black blade that was straight and simply, with a dense cloth wrapping posing as the handle. As his eyes moved up the edge, deep gashes and burnt metal made themselves apparent, the deepest of which coming from the cracked part of the blade. Snapped off jaggedly about 7 inches from the tip. The other piece was around here somewhere.

A fire of slight anger burned itself inside of the Undead's chest as he glared at the blade as if it had wronged him somehow. It wasn't the blade though. He was sure that in its prime that the blade was amazing and wouldn't have broken quite so easily. The years had not been kind to it however. It was the same as every other weapon he had picked up throughout his travels. Worn by age.

Blacksmith Andre was the only person who could acceptable repair blades and enhance them. He was a master of his craft and as long as their was a blade and materials, he could make it better. It was not a lack of skill however, but a lack of equipment.

An idea suddenly sparked in his head. A forge. That was all Andre really needed. However the old smith was left alone with naught but a hammer and anvil, along with weapons he had previously made.

So the Ashen One would make a forge. The first step was material. The Undead had gathered many an equipment in his travels, and a multitude of shields rested in his storage. So he went to a secluded place along the Undead Burg. Once he cleared it out again, he set up shop inside the room in which he had discovered the Estus Soup.

Using pyromancies and the edge of his sword, he heated and cut somewhat even sections of metal off of numerous shields and set them aside. Then he collected bricks from the ruined houses, along with an old fireplace Bellow. It was luckily intact.

The next step was doing something strange without notice. Buying Repair Powder. He purchased multiple pouches of the golden power. The Handmaiden looked at him strangely and asked, "Does thou not remember the bonfire?"

All weapons, armor, and shields regained their durability to matching of when they first came into contact with the bonfire. He had never needed repair powder because nothing had pushed his weapon enough to need it. So he told The Handmaiden of how his last sword broke, and how he wished to avoid it. She simply nodded, and packed away her payment.

The Ashen One cleared out the Burg again and returned to his shop, taking a sip of Estus Soup. Siegward sure knew how to cook. Back to his task, the Ashen One manipulated the repair powder to merge the pieces of steel together into a box, and then the same with the bricks. He then spent hours carving out a channel for the coal to sit in, which Andre already had.

Then he attached the forge bellows and stood up. It was the most crude, burnt and bent forge in existence, but it would do. The only difficulty was hauling the blasted thing back to a bonfire to transport it. He doubted a Homeward Bone would do the job.

* * *

Back at Firelink Shrine, a clatter was heard along with grunting as the Ashen One staggered out of the Shrine Bonfire and down the hall. Still struggling with the weight of the thing, he took the time to appreciate the look of confusion upon Andre's face. With a smile, he set the heavy forge down next to the old smith.

"What be this?" Andre asked the Ashen One with an odd tone in his voice. The Ashen One continued to grin as he told him. This is a forge. It's my gift to you, as now smith should go without one." Andre looked up at him from his kneeling position.

"I... I don't know what to say." When he looked back up The Ashen One was holding several pieces of Titanite, the metal usually used to strengthen a weapons. A smile crossed Andre's face. "I see. Well alright then. I'll forge a blade never afore seen by the likes of y'. It's but a small thanks to ya."

Using the large chink of Faron Coal which they broke up, the Ashen One lit it with his Pyromancy. The sound of air rushing and metal pounding rushed through the Shrine as Andre spent hours hammering away at the Titanite Shards. Flattening and then Combining them. He even mixed in a single piece of Twinkling Titanite, as well as parts of a Titanite Scale. All the while he had a smile on his face.

With wood cut from a White Birch tree and brass gathered from another blade, Andre forged a great-sword of smaller kin. It required great strength, dexterity, and endurance to use perfectly. Thankfully that is what the Ashen One had in abundance. And without quenching the blade, as Titanite did not need it, Andre presented the blue/black blade to the Ashen One.

"This is a blade never before seen or made by another smith. There is not another one like it in all of the land. What will y' name it?" Andre asked. The Ashen One thought for a time before answering, and taking the blade. "I will call it _**Alvaryn.**_ It will be the strongest blade." Andre nodded in approval before holding up another blade, one of the Lothric Knights. "Care to test?"

"The Ashen One smiled before swinging the blade with one hand into Andre's. Cleanly it cleaved the Lothric Knight Sword in half with little resistance, and a quick check showed that **_Alvaryn's_** edge was undamaged. They smiled, knowing that it was the best blade ever forged.

 **A longer chapter as a sort of apology. And for those of you who have trouble picturing things, _Alveryn_ is Ultramarine-Blue and black, alternating with glowing blue lines as seen in Titanite Scales. All of this twists in a Damascus pattern with a slightly lower number of layers than usual. The handle is the same as that glowing white seen on the tree soon before the Curse-Ridden Great Oak boss fight. For a guard, it is a polished brass, but still slightly darker than usual. The pommel is made from a loop, much like the Irithyll Straight Sword.**

 **The whole blade is slightly smaller than your average Zweihander, with straight edges.**

 **I hope you all enjoyed the chapter as much as it. Please leave a review or PM if you have any ideas. Until next time!**


	6. What a View

**Hello everyone, got another one for you. This one should be calmer and focus less on battle and more about inner thoughts.**

 **Something to address, a Guest review told me that while I imply that this is outside the battle, half of it still is. Two things.**

 **1\. I mean to say that it is off of the beaten path of what one would call Dark souls. The battles in the game, simply fighting from one area to another is in mindless determination, is something I try to avoid. Each fight I write up, I make it to mean something, or have it as a milestone.**

 **2\. Dark Souls is fighting, as is Fromsoftware's style. Aside from the characters, I have little to work with _other_ than the battles. But chapters like last and this one, focus little on fighting and more towards an experience. **

**I hope this has cleared a few things up. Remember to leave a review or PM if you have any ides you want to see, or just have a few things to say. Enjoy!**

 **P.S. - I absentmindedly wrote this in first person, but I believe the chapter was better of for it.**

My Alvaryn cleaved through another walking skeleton and the separated bones fell through the murky ground that I was currently standing on. The blade itself did not shatter the bones though, rather it sheared _through_ them cleanly. Truly Alvaryn was a masterpiece. A low moan turned my attention back to my larger problem.

Adorned in a crown with strings of merged gemstones falling down, High Lord Wolnir raised himself up onto his arms, before unhinging his jaw and looking down. A murky black and purple miasma of fog moved towards me with startling speeds, but I did not run. Instead, I focused on the strength of embers within me, my pyromancy allowing me to feel it inside my body.

I pushed the strength of embers into my blade, activating runes that neither me nor Andre the Blacksmith knew were there. The blade's black and blue surface was coated in a red-orange glow as I swung it with both hands horizontally, and cut through the miasma. The sheer force of embers shunted the fog away from me in a shock-wave.

The monstrous skeleton's right hand raised (Wolnir's Right) and I rolled, feeling the breeze and shake of the blow. Sprinting full speed now, I raced for the unmoved hand that held two of the three fatal bracelets. He could not react in time, his movements and thoughts sluggish compared to my own living flesh. His spirit struggled to move his massive body.

I slashed once the closest bracelet to me, my blade sinking in an entire half into it. I pirouetted and slashed again, breaking the bracelet. Unfortunately the brilliant flash blinded me. As a result, I did not see the hand grasping at me until it was almost too late. Reflexively I slashed, happy for the Alvaryn's ultimate edge. One of Wolnir's digits fell to the ground and the hand retreated.

Quickly I replicated my previous movements, finishing off the second bracelet, before the arm moved. A resounding crash and a few flickering lights drew my sight to the center of the battlefield, as a massive glowing blade raised from the ground. With speed eclipsing his previous efforts, High Lord Wolnir swung the blade at me and I rolled.

The blade, born from earth, was however sharp, and sheared through my armor and took a large section of skin away, which hurt unimaginably as I finished my roll. I could already feel the blood-loss as I rushed forward once more. The arm holding the knife and bracelet stopped, and I saw my chance. Leaping with my last vestiges of strength, and sacrificing even more to give embers to Alvaryn, I cleaved downwards, shattering the bracelet, and by result, this false world.

Wolnir's form retreated over the edge, the artifacts serving as his anchor to this mortal coil having been broken. Not a moment later I heard wind rushing. The entire world was fading, following the old lord. I anchored myself even as the ground thinned below me. Then silence.

After a few moments, I found my eyes were closed. When I opened them, the cursed chalice held the final remnants of the world in a fog. My Alvaryn was sheathed, and in its place was the fiery yellow soul of the Lord I had just defeated. Then I fell.

Hands grasping the stone sarcophagus with everything I could, the effects of extreme blood-loss coursed through me. Fervently I grasped my Estus Flask and drank deeply, almost finishing the entire bottle of orange liquid. My back started to itch where it was cut, but thankfully was not exposed to the air. My armor was back and sealed my fading injury.

I sighed, an untimely death averted as I walked towards the bonfire that had appeared in my absence. Lighting it as I walked past, the previously closed double doors were now open. I strode up the stars and past them, leading to more stairs. However I noticed something. Fresh, crisp air.

As I exited this ancient burial ground, my eyes could hardly believe the scene before me, completely ignoring the second bonfire next to me. Cold air flooded my lungs as I gazed upon Irithyll of the Boreal Valley. The sky was black and blue, matching my own Alvaryn, and the glorious white moon was partially eclipsed by something.

Snow was falling from the thick and wispy clouds above me, and my armored feet crunched on it. This place was truly breathtaking, though the word could not give it justice by any means. Absentmindedly I lit the fire next to me and sat down, still taking in the view. i knew there was enemies here, but I was not going to spoil this.

Instead of continuing down the architectural marvel of a stone bridge, I instead walked away and deeper into the pines. I continuously walked for hours, my embers warming my body as I took in the landscape around me. Snow coated the pine trees even as they remained a deep and dark green.

* * *

I couldn't tell you how far I walked or for how long, but I found myself settled down in the snow, sat in a small clearing. In front of me was a small bundle of sticks and logs, with a homeward bone in the center. Had I made that? It didn't matte, I lit the small fire with my pyromancy and gazed into It for a while. I added logs as the hours ticked by and the snow coated me.

Feeling tired and at peace, I leaned from my sitting position into the ever so soft snow, and closed my eyes. I did not dream, for an Undead is unable to. I was alright with that however, as I was already in a dream.

 **I hope you all enjoyed the chapter about my personal favorite place in the game. This was something that I wish I was able to do inside of the game, and decided to write it. Remember to leave a review or PM if you have an idea or just something to say. As always, Until next time!**


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